


On Letting Go

by AlvaDomer, terminally_fated



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Domestic Violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlvaDomer/pseuds/AlvaDomer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminally_fated/pseuds/terminally_fated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first multi-chapter fic (and second fic entirely) so a huuggee portion of this is me experimenting as a writer. My style is mainly concise and to the point so I'll also be working on adding more detail and descriptions with each chapter. (That's why the first couple chapters may seem a little short). I hope you guys enjoy and keep reading future updates!! </p>
<p>**Also each chapter is named after songs by Circa Survive</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Semi-constructive Criticism

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chapter fic (and second fic entirely) so a huuggee portion of this is me experimenting as a writer. My style is mainly concise and to the point so I'll also be working on adding more detail and descriptions with each chapter. (That's why the first couple chapters may seem a little short). I hope you guys enjoy and keep reading future updates!! 
> 
> **Also each chapter is named after songs by Circa Survive

_“What the fuck is wrong with you?”_

That question hung from the silence in the air. Armin didn’t dare respond. How was he supposed to? Staring unresponsive at the floor he could hear her intoxication with every slurred insult she shrieked at him. As if the smell wasn't enough.

_“So you’re just going to ignore me then?”_

It’s not like it would have made any difference. Before he could get more than a sound out, she would have shut him up with words or force; whichever seemed more convenient to her at the time. Ruling out the outcomes of each possible response in his mind, the child decided it would be best to say nothing at all. He stood with his eyes focused on the stained living room carpet, finding in it some sort of repose from seeing her like this.

_“I asked you to tell me what the hell you did wrong.”_

Refusing to look up, Armin finally found the words to say.

“I don’t know.” The answer was flat. Deadpan. With this he looked into her eyes for the first time that night and found that the emptiness in hers mirrored his own almost perfectly. He wasn’t sure what exactly he expected from such a shockingly stupid move. It was common knowledge that animals took eye contact as a challenge. And this was a challenge that she would most certainly win.

She always did.

He heard the sound before he felt the pain. The sound of her palm against his cheek seemed to echo throughout the room, creating embers of pain that sparked flames of agony in seconds. But that was okay. He could take this pain. He realized that as he touched his cheek delicately. He was used to getting burned. Besides, crying was a form of weakness and would only make matters worse.

She laughed. There was always some tacit joke that Armin was left out of. Or maybe he was the joke. He would try to defend himself and - bam - there goes the punchline.

_“You don’t know what you did? Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking dumbass you’d know what you did.”_

“I'm sorry,” he found himself droning like he always did. He could hear his teacher’s voice lecturing, If you hurt someone’s feelings, an apology goes a long way to make it better.

Maybe this time would really make it all go away.

_“Oh. Sorry. You're sorry. That's bullshit, Armin, and we both fucking know it. Sorry doesn't mean anything to me. Now tell me what you did wrong.”_

What was there left to say? He could feel the fear beginning to rise from his chest and into his throat. If he said I don't know one more time…

But that's what she wanted, wasn't it? To hear him humiliate himself so the show could go on. So he gave in. He shrugged. At this rate, the neighbors clearly weren't calling the cops and he had run out of ways to stall again. There was no point in any of this. He was just postponing the inevitable and they both knew what was coming next.

_“Silent again? That’s it. I’m fucking done dealing with this shit.”_

Given her current state of mind, it was almost miraculous how swiftly she was able to leave the room and return with the gray electrical cable, looped around her arm like a rope.

He was afraid.

_“I see that look on your face. Last fucking chance. Tell me what the fuck you did.”_

He didn't even know how violently he was shaking until he heard his own voice. “I don't-I-I don't know, I don't, I really, really don't I'm sorry Mo-”

Pain. Sharp, burning, excruciating pain. He could feel the side of his face already beginning to form welts from where the metal prongs had struck him.

_“I told you not to fucking call me that.”_

He couldn’t stop the tears from falling anymore. Betrayed by his own emotions once again. How much easier this would be if he could just turn them off once and for all. To just turn everything off. He knew crying would just make it worse. Make each hit stronger. Make the beating last a little longer with every tear that fell. But he couldn’t control it anymore and he hated himself for it.

It took ten minutes.

Ten minutes for a mother to beat tears out of her son’s eyes. Ten minutes for him to find out what the fuck he did wrong. Ten minutes for him to learn his lesson. And ten years to realize she never loved him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The morning air had a slight chill and Armin stuffed his hands into his pockets as if it would provide him with more warmth. The school was only a mile away yet it felt as if he had been walking in circles for the last half hour. He wasn’t doing very well at hiding his apprehension as he checked the GPS on his phone for the third time and was reassured that he was indeed headed towards his destination.

When he found it, the small blond realized that his fear was not of being lost, but actually of what he expected to find beyond the opened, worn-down gate acting as the entrance to the unknown. Shiganshina Middle School was anything but impressive.

In fact, the only impressive thing about it was that it was still capable of supporting its own weight. But, what else could have been expected from a middle school located in one of the poorest districts in the city? Armin would have counted it as a blessing just to have textbooks that were up to date. He had taken all but two steps inside the place when he stepped on a milk carton precariously thrown onto the ground. Great. Whatever reassuring lie he had planned to tell himself that day dissipated as he stared down at the mess on the ground. Which was now on his shoes. And all over the campus. If this was how the day started, just how much worse is it going to get?

Armin figured the best solution would be to locate all of his classes ahead of time to save the trouble of getting lost later. Missing orientation due to circumstances, he was at least grateful that his mother had the decency to get his class schedule for him. It was the least she could do.

Meandering through the school, it didn’t take long to realize that the students for the most part were just as miserable as the buildings themselves. The school seemed to drain the color out of all who crossed over into its unknown. Or maybe it wasn’t the school itself but perhaps something greater that manifested within it. Or maybe it was just life and school was its vector.

 

Who knew?

 

The classes themselves quickly proved to be equally unremarkable. The teachers droned on for what felt like years on end, the bell taking its sweet time to ring. Armin didn't even realize how exhausted he was until he was listening to the same set of classroom rules for the fourth time.

Armin adored learning when it was something that actually held his interest. He could get lost in the expeditions of Lewis and Clark, absorb the equations completely from his math textbook, and memorize entire diagrams during biology. Losing himself in a world of knowledge was the only time he could truly live.

But he knew almost instantly that this school would make no attempt in helping him make those grand escapes. Armin almost felt disappointed for a moment, but then he remembered that he would always have to go home in the end.

The only good thing so far, proven by his first four class periods, was the fact that his classmates were as equally uninterested and discouraged as he was. In his experience, that meant a lot less “new friends” pushing into his personal space and terrorizing him with their elementary antics. Was that a bit condescending? Yes, he admitted that to himself. But “friends” always brought more trouble than they were worth. Armin liked to be alone, wanted to be alone, and would be sure to keep it that way.

Sticking to this, he picked the seat farthest away from the other obnoxious children and decided it would be suitable enough for him to enjoy his lunch. The day halfway over, Armin was exhausted socially and hoped he would finally be able to gather his thoughts. About halfway through his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he felt a rough tap at his shoulder. Startled, he turned to find an eager boy grinning down on him.


	2. Glass Arrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another short chapter. They get longer I swear. The next few chapters will mainly be focusing on character development and the establishment of relationships between the characters. Plot-wise? Nothing huge happens but this development is incredibly important to the plot. Bear with me, things are gonna happen I promise.

           The optimism in his voice collided with the apathy in the air. Eleven-year-old Eren eagerly stuck out his hand to greet Armin. He stared down in hesitation at the boy’s extended hand as if he expected it to shake itself. With reluctance and apprehension, his meek hand reached out to connect with Eren’s. There was a confidence in his grip and an aspiration that glimmered in the ocean of his eyes that set off a twinge of hurt somewhere deep inside.

“I’m Eren. Eren Jaeger. What’s your name?”

His voice was commanding yet had a warming softness to it, flushed with innocence and naiveté. His smile all but beamed sincerity. 

“Armin.”

There was a short pause before he added, “Armin Arlert” in that timid and impassive voice of his.

The more time had passed between them the more Armin wished the kid would leave, preferring only himself for company. As if he could read his mind, Eren spoke out once again.

“I’m waiting for a good friend of mine. I think she’s buying lunch but she’ll be here any minute now. Is it okay if I wait here with you?”

This pause was a little longer than the first.

“That’s fine.”

Great.

Discomfort swelled with each passing second until a soft “Who’s that?” made its way from behind Eren.

“Oh look, Mikasa! This is my friend Armin!” He was practically bouncing in his seat as he said the word friend.

_Friend._

“Hey."

Armin had looked up at the girl who was not much taller than he was and could read her just well enough to realize that she was also reading him. The darkness of her eyes was vast and revealed nothing aside from the calculations running through her mind. The way she carried herself conveyed her intelligence; dominance in her stance and a tame ferocity faintly distinguishable in her voice as she spoke. It made him surprisingly uneasy.

“Hey, Armin?”

 

Back to reality.

 

“What happened to your face?” 

Armin’s lip twitched.

Reality hit almost as hard as his mother.

Unknowingly, Armin traced the remnants of the other night’s argument with his fingertips, feeling the uneven skin on his cheek.

 

“I fell off my bike last week.”

 

“Didn’t you wear a helmet?”

“Yeah. I just fell funny. I dunno.”

He realized he was still touching the scar and dropped his hand instantly. The intensity of Mikasa’s eyes on him was becoming unbearable and he resisted the urge to make eye contact.

“Man, you should wear a helmet from now on, ya know? This one time I was on my bike and…”

Eren’s voice droned on about bicycle safety and his own bike injuries (there were several) until the bell rang for class to resume once more. 

“So I guess I’ll see yo-”

“Yeah, bye.”

With no other parting words, he hastily rose and went to his next class.

 

* * *

 

 It was only the first day of school but her backpack was heavy enough to generate a clang that reverberated through the house when she dropped it onto the wooden floor. Their room was small, originally fit for a single person, but still comfortable with the two of them together there. Their beds were set on opposite sides of the room with an old, yet sturdy desk aligned along the wall in between them. The desk was initially for Eren but made its way into Mikasa’s possession since Eren would spend his time doing homework on his bed, if he decided to do his work at all. Exhausted and back aching from carrying the obnoxious amount of textbooks, Mikasa collapsed onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Eren was following shortly behind and carelessly tossed his bag onto the floor and plopped down onto the bed next to her.

       

“Mikasa! Can you believe it? It’s only been the first day of school and we’ve already made a friend! Man, I can’t wait to see him tomorrow!” He was shaking her in excitement, trying to transfer his joy to her through his hands.

She smiled weakly at his failed attempt and played along, answering, “Yeah, that’ll be fun.” She wanted to be happy for Eren’s sake. She _really_ did. But there was something about Armin that stood out as unsettling to her. She could see how empty his eyes were and it scared her. “Hey, Eren?” She asked, softening her tone.

“Hm? You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

There was no homework so it was an easy day for the both of them. Eren played on his DS while Mikasa spent her free time finishing a book she had started over the summer. They stayed in their own bubbles, enjoying each other’s presence until they were called for dinner.

“Your father will be coming home late tonight. Long day at work again.” Eren poked at the potatoes on his plate, moving them around with his fork. The lighthearted tone in Carla’s voice could only do so much for the children. Mikasa didn’t even look up at her. It was the third night in a row that they would be eating dinner without their father and she knew that something was wrong. She could hear it in the woman’s voice. That tone of uncertainty. The way it quivered with desperation and longing.

Changing the subject, Carla began the yearly interrogation. “So, how did the first day of school go? Do you like your teachers? What are your classes like? Did you make any new friends?” The rapid fire of questions fulfilled their duty and captured Eren’s attention immediately. Without even stopping to chew his food he began to ramble on and on about the day they had.

“oh man, today was so exciting! I even have Mikasa in some of my classes!” He shoveled food into his mouth and didn’t give himself emough time to chew before speaking omce again.

“I think math is gonna be hard though. I’ve never really beem good at that…” his voice trailed off.

“Did you make any new friends?”

His eyes brightened at the thought of Armin.

“There was this one kid I met at lunch. He told me his name was Armin Arlert. He sat alone so I thought, ‘Hey this kid looks like he could use some company!’ and I sat with him. He’s kinda quiet but I think we’re gonna be really good friends!”

Mikasa’s eyes remained on her plate but she still had yet to eat any of her food. She glanced at the wan for the first time that night to see a look of relief in her eyes.

      

 

        “Sweetheart, no matter what you hear you can’t come out, okay? You have to be a big girl, okay?” her mother whispered to her. Mikasa wasn’t sure what was going on but she remained in her bedroom closet and didn’t dare come out until it was safe. Everything was dark. Even from within the confines of the cramped closet the world was so much bigger than her. It was filled with things that she did not- and never would be able to- understand. The loud noises, the screams, the sounds of shattering glass, of gun shots, of yelling, of sirens. Everything she could not comprehend was screaming at her all at once. It was too loud, too big, too dark, too bright, all too fast, though time itself was transfixed. Everything turned blue and it hurt her eyes to see 

“Hey. You alright? Having problems sleeping?” Eren cautiously approached her with this line of questioning.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She turned over and closed her eyes, despite knowing that it was going to be another sleepless night.

 


	3. The Greatest Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so now I'm starting to get the hang of fanfic writing so from here on expect decent-length chapters! Things are gonna start picking up the pace as well, but will continue to remain focused mainly on character/relationship development, especially in the next chapter...

           Eighty degrees of dry heat made the walk to school unbearable. Armin had no choice but to wear a t-shirt and shorts that day. It was mid-August but, as usual, fall would not come until late November. _I can wear long sleeves again_ he thought, glancing down at the purple marks covering his wrist from where her hands gripped far too tightly. It wasn’t as if he spoke to anyone in his classes so no one would ask him about it. However, it was lunch he would have to worry out. As he sat in his fourth period class, his heart increased to the rhythm of the ticking clock which seemed to just go faster and faster. Maybe things would be okay if he sat by him-

The bell rang and it took all of his strength not to vomit from the increasing anxiety.

Now he sat in the cafeteria, relieved to be out of the summer air, and waited for the arrival of his two acquaintances. There was an eager tap at his shoulder and he turned around expecting it to be Eren but found someone much taller standing where Eren should have been. His face was angular and lean, making him appear to be at least the age of a freshman in high school. He wore an oversized t-shirt with baggy jeans that were all but imploring to be pulled up to the proper position. Beside him stood a younger, timid looking boy with dark hair and freckles that spanned a bridge from one side of his face to the other. It was clear he spent much more time in his appearance than the friend lumbering next to him. This friend, with thumbs in his pockets and painfully obvious dyed hair, spoke up.       

“So, where’s your lunch, kid?”

Armin was surprised that he could even articulate that question. But, then again, even gorillas were capable of learning sign language. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading so he humored him with a response.

        “I didn’t bring one.”

        He must not have been expecting that answer because there was a short pause before he followed up with “So where’s your lunch money then?”

        Before Armin could reply, the stranger’s eyes looked him up and down and zeroed in on the marks on his arm.

        “What’s that from, huh? You fall or something?”

        “Yes.”

Another answer he wasn’t expecting. The pause in between responses was even longer this time.

        “You didn’t answer my first question. I asked where your lunch money was.”

The demand in his voice showed he was regaining his footing in the conversation.

        “But Jean, you didn’t give him time t-“

        “I know what I did and didn’t do, Marco.” He turned back to Armin, “So, you gonna answer me or not?”

        “Do you need it for a belt? I’m sorry to tell you this but that will cost you a lot more than $2.50” the blond snapped back.

        “Are you making fun of me?  You think there’s something wrong with the way I dress?” He was quicker than Armin gave him credit for, snatching him out of his seat by the collar of his shirt.

        “You better watch what the fuck you’re saying before I add to those bruises.”

The other one had called him Jean. Jean was looking at him face to face; his own red with insecurity and hurt showing in the slight traces of tears that welled in his eyes. Armin wasn’t afraid and stared right back at him. He wasn’t afraid of getting hit. Instead, he just expected it, awaited, almost impatiently, for it.

       

A Band-Aid speckled fist made contact with Jean’s face. Whether it was from shock or brute force, Armin wasn’t sure, but his assailant was down on the ground in an instant. Eren, almost 5 inches shorter and 50 pounds lighter was on top of him immediately, punching every part of Jean’s face he could make contact with.

       

One good swing to the nose and Armin could see blood.

 

He was so used to being the only victim; it startled him to see his mother turn on somebody else so quickly.  Especially when this somebody else was his own father. He could smoke all he wanted but it could never take him high enough to escape this reality.

“I’m so fucking sick of you!” the anger cracked in her voice.

“I should have left you when I had the chance you selfish asshole! How the fuck are you supposed to support this family when you do nothing but sit on your ass all day?”

 

The words were different, but the violence was the same. Instead of jobs and addictions, Eren was screaming about--what _was_ he screaming? It might have just been unintelligible, angry snarling. That wouldn't be surprising for someone like him. 

“JOKE’S ON YOU; ARMIN DOESN’T EVEN _HAVE_ LUNCH MONEY!” he screamed as the animalistic attack carried on. The yard duty finally decided to do his job and pried Eren’s claws away from Jean’s face. Even still, he made several vicious attempts to grab at him, squirming to get away from his captor.

“ _Eren_.” How long had she been watching? When did she even get here?

“But Mikasa, he started it,” Eren whined, already beginning to calm down. Mikasa didn’t need to raise her voice to be heard and she didn’t need to make commands to be obeyed.

Armin studied the interactions between the two as Eren’s humanity returned to him in increments. He could hear a far-off voice mentioning something about suspension and continued to look intently as Eren begrudgingly made his way to the principle’s office.

_Why?_

They had only known each other for a month. Why would Eren jeopardize his own safety for a near complete stranger?  He was unable to fathom how anyone could have such a strong attachment for someone like him, how someone could care so much; he clearly was undeserving of it. Whatever the cause, he was certain about one thing:

 

_I could get some use out of him._

 

* * *

 

Everyone had settled on pizza for dinner tonight. This would be the only redeeming quality about the dinner they would be having as the inevitable was brought up.

“Eren got into a fight at school today.”

“Mikasa! Why do you always have to tell everyone’s business!?”

 

His face was the color of the pepperoni on his plate when he made eye contact with his parents sitting across from him at the table. Neither one of them looked surprised as they looked from Mikasa to Eren, who no longer was interested in his meal.

“Eren, I thought you had grown out of this. You know you can’t use violence to get your way.” Her voice lacked the strictness that came with anger. It was weary. Tired. _Disappointed_. This wasn’t the first time he’s gotten into fights during school. Mikasa could remember the incident where he pushed a child off the swing for taking too long of a turn. He was only in the third grade but they suspended him anyways. It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn’t gotten himself expelled at least once so far.

 

“But mom, I wasn’t the one to start it this time, I swear! Mikasa was there! She saw what happened!” Carla looked helplessly towards Mikasa for some form of corroboration to Eren’s words. She nodded in agreement.

Though the woman’s face had softened and her shoulders relaxed,the damage that was done could not be repaired.. This was the first day in weeks that Grisha was able to make it home in time for dinner and it was very apparent that this was not the news he wanted to be welcomed home with.

“Eren.” His voice shook slightly on the second syllable of his son’s name. “It doesn’t matter who started it. What matters in the end is the outcome. And that outcome was another suspension.” He sighed deeply and pressed his fingers to his forehead. Maybe there was a button beneath his skull. If he pressed hard enough, he’d have a better job, a better life, a better son. One can only dream.

“Eren, I’ve had an incredibly long day. I worked very hard to make it home to spend time with you and the first thing I hear is how you’re already making poor choices at school. For goodness sake, Eren, the year’s just started.” With those last words, a heavy silence fell among the family as everyone went back to eating their cold pizza.

 

 

“Mikasa, why’d you have to go and do that?”

“It’s not like they weren’t going to find out when you just stayed home from school for three consecutive days. The school also calls and notifies them. There was no way you could get out of this and you know that.”  
  
“Well, yeah, but…”

And with that he remained quiet, accepting his defeat. As he sat there, MIkasa began to run a brush through her still wet hair, dextrous fingers running through the knots and tangles. She attacked them,  prying each one apart until there were no more and grabbed a small towel.

“Why’d you stand up for him anyways?” She ruffled the towel through her hair.

“Because that horse-faced jerk was picking on him” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Eren, I’m not sure if he’s the best person you should be hanging around.”

“Why not?” he nearly yelled in defense.

“You don’t make the best decisions when you’re around him, Eren. And…” She contemplated how to phrase her second argument. Picked her words carefully. “There’s something off about him. He’s not the type of person either one of us should be hanging around.”  
  
“What do you mean?” He leaned closer, showing a genuine interest in her words.

“Did you see the bruises on his arms?”  
  
“Yeah? He fell?”

It was clear that Mikasa couldn’t sugar coat things around the boy any longer and she was getting more and more irritable. Tossing the now damp towel into the hamper, she let out a long sigh and sat on the bed across from him. She looked at him with a deep sense of commiseration.  

“How many times has he fallen in the last week, Eren?”

“Well, he rides his bike a lot so it’s normal tha-”  
  
“Eren he _walks_ to school and you know that. Something else is going on and I don’t think that we should be a part of whatever it is.” She spoke as if they really didn’t know what was going on. It was like tip-toeing around the edge of a volcano and expecting not to get burned. It was only a matter of time before it erupted.

“We could help him! He has no one else, Mikasa! Imagine having no one else to talk to. Imagine how alone he must be. Mikasa I think he _needs_ us.” He acted as if she had no idea how much it hurt to be lonely.

“He may need someone but that someone is not us. There’s something off about him and because of him you’re getting into fights again. Your dad’s actually home for once and we couldn’t even have a good time with him being there. Who knows when he’ll be home at a decent time again.” Her anger was getting the better of her.

“I think Armin’s the more important issue here!” he retorted, yelling once more. “You always act as if Dad’s just never going to come home! It shouldn’t be long before he finished whatever big project he’s working on a-”  
  
“ _Eren_ , you don’t know what could happen-”  
  
“He’ll get it all complete by next year Mikasa. He told me himself that that was going to happen. He’ll come home earlier once it’s done, we’ll have more money and we’ll be able to vacation and go on trips. So _please_ stop using him as an excuse just because you don’t want me to spend time with Armin!” There was so much optimism in what he was saying it made Mikasa jealous.

“He _lied,_ Eren!” She winced at the pain it brought her to utter those words.

There was a pause.

“What are you talking about?”

“Eren, everyone’s just been lying to you this whole time and you need to just accept the truth! Armin hasn’t been ‘falling’ and we both know that. Who knows what else he could be lying about at this point! I know it seems like I’m overreacting but Eren I can _feel_ it. I can just _feel_ that there’s something off with him. I see it in his eyes! And Grisha,” she paused, and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “They’re both lying to you Eren. There is no project, there is no research. Sure, he works at a lab but think about it for once. Why are we living in this small house, going to that awful school if he was really working on some big project? Eren, he’s a _janitor._ He works overtime because that’s the only way he can afford to have me living here with you guys. He’s never going to come home with reasonable hours, a reasonable pay, a reasonable job. It’s not going to happen, Eren, and you need to stop lying to yourself. Stop letting others lie to you!”

She began to put her books into her backpack for the next day as an entire world crashed just a few feet away from her.

 


	4. My Only Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time skips ahead a few years to winter during their Freshman year in high school. Armin's true nature is just now starting to show and honestly it only gets worse from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for pushing the update back a week!! I had to do a lot of stuff for college and drove from one end of the state to the other to get to the orientation. Then I had family over for 4 more days :'') There might be another week set-back depending on how quickly I can write chapters 6 and 7 but hopefully everything goes wellll

If there was Anything Armin had learned within the fourteen pitiful years of his life it was that everything was a cycle. The only thing that changed was the environment. No matter where he went or who he met, no one ceased to disappoint him. When it was all said and done, everyone was the same:  _ weak. _ His mother was weak as she succumbed to the influence of a glass bottle every night. His father was weak for using mindless drugs to escape his problems. Eren was weak from his own naivete. Mikasa was weak for her groundless dependence on Eren. Even he was weak. He couldn’t stand up against his mother as she beat him every other day. Hell, he even cried like the bitch he was each time she did. And such was life. Fragile, fragile life, as frail as the people who lived it, waiting to be snuffed out at any minute. It was stupid for people to try and avoid this- to be afraid of it. In fact, of all the things that scared Armin, death was the very last on the list.

* * *

 

 

7:30 am and the low roar of Eren’s 2005 Corolla could be heard through the thin walls of Armin’s bedroom. The high school was too long of a distance to walk and there was no way his mother-  or father for that matter- was in any suitable condition for Armin to entrust his life to them behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. 

 

_ Oh, your mom has work?  _

_ Yeah, and my dad’s always out of town.  _

_ I’ll ask my mom if she can give you a ride too!  _

 

Bright and early Monday morning, Armin hurried past his parents’ bedroom where they both slept, passed out and hardly conscious. He knew they would wake up, smoke, drink, fight, yell, smoke and drink from the exhaustion of fighting and yelling, pass out once more and let the cycle start all over again. It wasn’t even asked of him how he had been managing to get to and from school for the last 4 months. Armin didn’t mind though. he liked the disconnect; the less he was able to talk to his mother, the longer he could go without getting into a fight with her. 

Before Eren could make it halfway up the driveway, Armin was already opening the door to greet him. God forbid he get the chance to ring the doorbell and wake up his parents. 

“Good morning Ar!” 

“Hey Eren.”  
“Hey… You alright?”  
“Yeah. I’m just tired. You know, lots of homework over the weekend.”

“Man, I’m so glad I didn’t sign up for advanced classes. I don’t see how you do it.” 

He gave Armin a pat on the back that was a little too rough for his liking. 

“Yeah. Me neither.”

  
  


School was a cycle as well. Armin sat through class after class, pretending to take notes and feigning interest. No one bothered to talk with him and he made no effort to reach out to them either. However, lunch was always an adventure. That was because Eren was there. It wasn’t so much that he looked forward to seeing  _ him,  _ but just that Eren opened up a world that Armin could never truly understand. He was interested in this world. Looked forward to it, almost. 

Ever since day one, Eren had pledged a form of undying loyalty to his friendship with Armin. He was sworn in the very second his fist made contact with Kirstein’s face. Three years later, Armin was still left to beg the question of ‘why?’ He would never be able to comprehend it. 

“Hey!” 

He was right on time. 

“Hey.” 

And she was with him, as usual. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Not that he truly wanted an answer, but it was something he said to fill the air. It seemed like a mandatory question so he forced himself to ask it. 

“Math… I don’t understand any of it.” Eren looked at him with desperation and helplessness.

Armin returned his look with a smile of reassurance. This was how it went almost every day. Armin, being a year ahead in advanced algebra 2, was assistant teacher to Eren after school, but he didn’t mind. The math was simple enough to explain and it postponed his return home by at least an extra hour. 

Mikasa stared down at her plate of processed muck the school passed off as food. It was frustrating how silent she was. There would be times where he'd look up at her to find her looking straight back at him. The unexpected eye contact made him flinch away, but her eyes continued to bore into him. Like a knife, her gaze cut the flesh, peeled away his skin exposing nothing but red meat. The discomfort it gave him was on par with physical pain as she inattentively let her eyes carve their mark into him. 

Yet another person that Armin couldn’t understand. Despite her small frame she had the physical and mental power of a brick wall that no matter what, he could never get past. It was very clear that she would never lower her guard for him and the only reason why she sat at the table was because of Eren. Armin would try to ignore her but her presence could always be felt- not just in the air but on his skin, in his hair- her presence was the very air itself. 

He wanted to leave but where else could he go? His own parents weren’t even there for him, so he had to settle for what he could get. He could push through this kind of pain. It was nothing compared to the pain he’d feel at home. 

Releasing him from Mikasa’s snare, Eren began to explain his struggles with theorems (Why do I need to prove it if it’s already true?!) and Armin nodded his head where he thought fit. They would carry on like this as they had the day before and as they will tomorrow until the bell rang and Armin was sucked out of Eren’s world once more. 

 

The library was a much more comforting environment than the cafeteria and it made being with Eren just that much more manageable. As expected, not much of the students frequented the place, leaving it empty and quiet. Aside from Eren’s sighs in frustration, the room was filled with the melodies of turning pages and the rhythm of fingers dancing along the keyboards of the computers that aligned the perimeter of the room.  

Eight geometry problems down and two more to go when Eren broke the concentration of the two of them. 

“Hey, Armin?” Eren looked up at him, laying his head in his hands on the table in front of them. 

“Yeah?” The look on Eren’s face startled him. It was very rare that the boy was able to be serious and this was one of those rare occasions. In his eyes rested a deep sincerity that Armin could never know. 

“I just wanted to say thanks. For helping me with all this work, ya know? You really don’t have to be doing this but you do it anyways. So…” His cheeks were starting to flush with color and he scooted the textbook closer to himself. He looked down and tried to do the remaining problems without Armin’s help. 

“It’s fine. You really don’t have to thank me.” He leaned over to observe the boy as he struggled halfway through the proof of the theorem. 

Armin was right. If anything,  _ he _ was the one who should have been giving thanks.  Eren had been keeping him company at school, keeping away bullies, giving him rides to and from school, and even now, though it seemed that Armin was the one doing something for Eren, in the long run it was just Eren providing Armin with an excuse to be away from home. Solving a few easy math problems was far from a fair trade-off and it seemed Armin was the only one who realized that. 

He had a special form of pity towards him. 

 

“No, really Armin. You do so much for me. Thanks, for everything.” 

  
  
  


He could hear his parents screaming at each other from outside the front door. That was funny. it usually wouldn’t happen for another few hours. They at least had the decency to wait until dark. But not now. Now it was five in the afternoon and Armin was walking in on a conversation that was not meant to be heard by him. 

“ _ Who the fuck are you talking to? What, you thought I wouldn’t see those messages?”  _ She was completely irate. 

“She’s just a friend of mine! How many times do I have to fucking tell you that?” 

Oh, she wasn’t hearing any of that bullshit. 

“ _ Why are you even here anymore?”  _

“Can you stop being so paranoid and calm down already? Look, the game’s gonna be on in half an hour can I just-”   
She snatched the remote control from the arm of the couch before he even had time to look in its direction.

“ _ Where the fuck are your priorities? Is the fucking game more important than me? Than your son?”  _ Her face was getting redder with every word she spoke. 

“If you’re gonna sit here and accuse me of this bullshit then I might as well just go ahead and fuck her already.” 

What Armin saw next was no longer his mother but someone else dressed in her clothes and imitating her voice. The face was all wrong. He could see it in her eyes; for they were no longer empty but filled with the kind of ferocious hunger you would see in the eyes of a wild animal that hadn't been fed in days. 

The next thing he could see was a glimpse of red and everything went black. Then the pain. His eye was burning and he couldn’t manage to keep it open. 

“ _ Oh shit! Fucking shit! When did you even get home!?”  _

Armin was backed against the front door, pressing his hand up to his right eye. With his left, he could see the remote laying next to him on the floor. His father kneeled down in front of him and moved the boy’s hand from his face. 

“God dammit! It’s already starting to bruise.” 

Next his mother swooped in to see for herself the damage that she had caused. She never trusted that her husband would have any clue what he was talking about. 

_ “Shit I’m so sorry! I wasn’t aiming for you. I didn’t even know you were home, oh God I’m so sorry.”  _ She was sobbing. Armin made the mistake of thinking she actually cared until she uttered the next sentence,  _ “How the hell am I supposed to explain this to your teachers?”  _

If he wasn’t in pain, Armin would have laughed right then and there. 

She wasn’t even drunk and she still didn’t give a shit about him. 

  
  
  


It was 11:30 at night.  Armin looked in the mirror at his swollen lip and blackening eye. Gently, he prodded at the wounds with his fingers, wincing at the pain each touch brought. They felt less like fingers and more like needles. The swelling in his lip should go down by the next day. However, there was no way he could hide the blaring target that disguised itself as his left eye. He thought of the looks the students at school would give him.  _ What happened to your eye? Did you get in a fight?  _ The concerned look on Eren’s face was all he could see in his mind. He could tell him anything and he’d believe it but, Mikasa. She’d know immediately what had happened. His secret was out. On pondering what passable excuses he could tell everyone at school, he felt something crawling up his throat. It suddenly became hard to swallow. Everything was too real. The collar of his shirt was trying to strangle him. His clothes were too tight and it was making him hot. He could see the color fill in his cheeks as he looked at the beaten and tattered boy in the mirror. His vision blurred with the onset of fresh tears, but they never fell. 

He refused to cry this time. He wouldn’t cry from the pain. He wouldn’t cry from the humiliation. He was done with that shit. He took in as much air as his lungs could possibly contain and held his breath- only for a few seconds. In those seconds he focused on his thoughts. Focused on his feelings and wished them away. As he exhaled, his head began to clear. The air leaving his frame paralleled the emotion leaving his head until he was just as empty as he was after the fight. Numb once again. 

He splashed cold water on his face, patted it dry, and left the bathroom. He was headed towards his own mangy bedroom but stopped short, looking intently into his parents’ room. His dad was out on ‘business’ once more and by this time his mother was passed out on the couch. No one would know. Recklessly, carelessly, he made his way into the stuffy room. The air was stale and reeked of a nauseating blend of weed and alcohol. Softly, Armin stepped upon the worn carpet making his way to the nightstand on his father’s side of the disheveled bed. Atop the nightstand lied an array of prescription pills, neatly organized in front of a family photo they had taken back when Armin was younger. It was during their trip up north to the snow. He was in the middle with his parents on either side. His father had his arm placed gently around his mother’s shoulder. He looked at the child that once was him, smiling brightly, exposing a checkerboard mouth- he had lost a great deal of teeth at this point. 

He had opened the drawer to the nightstand, prying his eyes from the photo above. He looked down and was pleased to see exactly what he was hoping to find. He began to take a small amount of marijuana from the drawer and prayed his father would be too high to notice. 


	5. Through the Desert Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far!! Time to see more of Mikasa's backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT!!   
> okay so sorry for the long space in between updates;;; I've been so busy with other things lately. I have to finish a couple cosplays by next weekend and then two weeks later I'm going off to college so I have to prepare for that as well. On top of that I'm going to be working on another project (an RPG) with a friend of mine and so that will also be taking up a lot of my writing time as well. I've had this chapter done for weeks but never got around to posting it whoops. I've started chapter 6 but i'm nowhere near done with it so I probably won't update again until I have up to chapter 9 fully written out. Also I found that I struggled a lot with writing this chapter and I'm not entirely sure how much it shows so opinions and comments are greatly appreciated!!

She was eight years old. It was three in the morning. Even at such a young age Mikasa was incredibly strong and independent. She was sound asleep in her room, down the long hall that separated her from her parents at night. The distance never bothered her up until that night. 

 

Shattering glass cut its way into her mind and pulled her out of the sleep she was in and her eyes flew wide open. She sat up, mind trying frantically to grasp what was going on, confused about why her heart was beating so quickly. There was something wrong and she could feel it in the way her stomach was churning. More sounds could be heard from directly beneath her room and suddenly she was beginning to piece things together. It was far too late for it to be her parents. And if her parents even were awake, they definitely would not have been that loud that late into the night. She stared at the door with her blankets pulled up to her chin. Was it safe to go out there? Who was in her home? Why? Her heart and her brain seemed to be in some sort of race against each other. These questions needed answers and there was only one way to find them. Exposing her leg to the cold air around her, she touched one foot to the soft carpet of her room. To her surprise and terror, the handle to her door started to turn. Unsure of who it was or what to do, she buried herself under her blankets once again as some sort of defense mechanism, hoping whoever it was would be unable to see past her disguise. Why she thought that would actually work, she had no idea. 

“Mikasa?” The sound of her name reached her as a barely audible whisper but it was enough for her to recognize who it was. The sick feeling in her stomach dissolved as her mother ran to embrace her in the darkness. It came back twice as strong as Mikasa took one look at her mother’s face. 

“Mommy, what's wrong? Why are you crying?” As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see her mother smile weakly through her tears. That smile could only do so much to make her daughter feel better. Though Mikasa was young, it was very apparent that something was very wrong. She had wished her mother hadn’t come to see her. She had never wanted to see those tears- that fear- plastered upon her face like that. It was a sight that she knew would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

“Shh. Listen to me honey,” She squeezed her tightly and took in a deep breath. 

“Sweetheart, no matter what you hear you can’t come out, okay? You have to be a big girl, okay?” Her arms started to loosen and slip away from Mikasa’s body, leaving her cold and alone. Most of all, she was scared. Out of pure reflex, Mikasa stretched her arms out in the darkness of her room, toward the mother who was abandoning her only child.  Yes, she was a big girl, but never before had she felt so small. The bed she sat on felt like it was made for giants. She was no longer suited for it. She wasn’t suited for her bedroom either; it was much too big. She could have easily gotten lost in it. The only space that fit her was in her mother’s arms and she wanted to remain there. 

“Are you leaving?” She already knew the answer but couldn’t stop herself from asking. 

“Only for a little bit baby. Mommy’s going to be back soon. We just have to go see if everything's okay and we'll be right back.” She stood up, took her daughter’s tiny hand, and led her from one end of the room to her tiny bedroom closet on the other side. 

“I want you to wait in here and don't come out until I tell you too okay? It's like hide-and-seek. It's very important that you stay in here.” 

More loud noises could be heard from downstairs. The sounds of breaking glass, people swearing, and footsteps, were getting more prevalent as Mikasa was pushed into her closet.

“Everythings going to be okay. I love you sweetheart. I'll be back in a minute.” 

She looked her mother in the eyes and immediately knew she was lying. And just like that Mikasa was all alone, hiding in a cramped closet. One of the people swearing had a familiar voice. It was her father. Never in her life had she witnessed him this angry and never again would she have the misfortune to. All she could see was darkness but she had tried her best to picture what was happening below her. She matched voices with faces she created in her mind and thought of possible objects that could match the noise of things being knocked over and broken. 

“GET THE FUCK BACK!” Mikasa had no clue who was saying those words but he sounded rather large and intimidating. She envisioned him being at least six feet tall and quite muscular. She tried to give him a face but couldn’t picture anything that could match the viciousness in his voice.  Her father should do what he was told in this circumstance. Despite this, he was never the type of person to back down so easily. Mikasa would remember all the times he would stand up for her when her teachers graded an assignment unfairly. He’d even threaten to come to her mother’s job if she was being treated poorly there. There was no way he'd back off now. Not when his house and family were on the line. She cursed his resilience as she heard him yell back just as viciously, “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!” 

Mikasa was more afraid for her father than she was for whoever had entered their home that morning; he wasn't the biggest nor the strongest out there. Her mother was afraid for him too. She could tell when she heard her terrified screams. In the dark she could picture her mother standing behind her father's back, gripping his shoulders tightly, trying to pull him away from the fight he stood no chance in. 

“HE'S GOT A GUN!” She shrieked. Mikasa knew that even that would not stop her father. She pictured a strange and tall man standing by their front door, gun in his right hand, waving it left and right. He'd point mainly at her father but whenever her mother spoke, he'd point it at her in response. How brave they must have been. They were putting their lives on the line to protect each other- to protect their daughter. She compared it to the villains in all her favorite cartoons. The hero wouldn't back down, even when held at gunpoint. Nothing was too scary for them. But she also knew that her father was no superhero. If only he had known that himself. This was far from the cartoons she’d watch with her parents every morning. 

 

_ BANG.  _

 

There was a pained scream, bleeding out as it rang through the air. Though Mikasa couldn't see anything in the closet, she held her eyes shut as tightly as she could. She didn't want her mind to see what was happening, she tried frantically to block the image of her father falling to the ground out of her mind. She wanted to scream. Accompany her mother’s requiem of sorrows, but she had to be good. She had to follow her mother's dying request. Her mouth remained shut as tightly as her eyes. 

 

_ BANG.  _

 

The wailing was shut up by the sound of another bullet going off.  Mikasa wondered if she'd be next as the tears began to fall from her eyes.  They felt warm on her face against the cold stale air of her bedroom closet.  She wasn't even sure if they knew she was there, though the family pictures hanging from the walls would clearly give it away. 

 

“You weren't supposed to actually kill anyone you dumb-ass! What the fuck?” 

So there were two of them. 

“I'm sorry, I just panicked! Let's- let's just get the shit we came for and leave.” 

“What if they called the cops?”

“No one had the chance to do anything. It's fine.”

They continued to bicker like this while the bodies of Mikasa’s parents lay motionless beside them. As they argued, the girl could only ask herself: why? Was the death of her parents really worth whatever valuable objects they could take from that house? Where was she going to live from now on? When would it be safe to leave her bedroom? Would anyone come to help her? She could hear the two intruders rummaging through the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen and living room beneath her. Not impressed with what they found, their footsteps stumbled up the stairs and into her parents’ room. They were just a hallway away now. It wouldn't be long before they noticed her room. Panic commandeered her body, ejecting the sadness that had resided there just moments before. The daughter didn't even have time to grieve the loss of her own parents before she would loose her own life as well. As Mikasa was awaiting her turn, she heard something from outside the house. It was the sound of police cars, maybe even an ambulance.  

“SHIT!” 

“I THOUGHT YOU SAID NO COPS WERE COMING!” 

They began to scramble frantically around her parents’ room, run frantically down the stairs, try not to fall. 

“Police!” 

The sound was muffled but she could still hear her saviors at her front door. A few minutes later, there  _ was  _ no front door and her house was being searched once again.  She had let her guard down when her bedroom door exploded open and a commanding voice invaded the air

“Police!” He yelled out. 

The eight year old was terrified, relieved, in grief, and confused all at once. She wasn't sure how to feel anymore as she warily opened up the door to her closet and stumbled out of the room. The officer was rather large- being about 6’2”- and scooped her up effortlessly. 

“Don't worry sweetheart,” he said softly as he carried her out of her bedroom. “Everything's going to be okay from now on.” 

That was exactly what her mother had said.

 

* * *

 

 

She stood at the doorstep of a stranger's house, waiting to be greeted with charity and pity. An intimidating woman stared down upon her with a patronizing smile laced with compassion. The man standing next to her worked for CPS and had arrived at the scene of her parents’ murder, ready to deliver her to this strange domain. Though her parents were the dead ones, everyone alive around her felt like ghosts, hovering slightly above her, lost in a completely different realm of existence. She too would become a dead girl walking as she crossed the threshold into the lair of the unknown. 

 

She only remained in that household for a few days until someone else was willing to borrow her. They'd have her for a few months and give her away.  Exchange her for another child whom they'd use up just as they used her. Some homes were absolutely horrible. There would be six or seven kids crammed into a home fit for three. Being one of the smallest, she would have to share a bed with strangers who were supposed to be her ‘family.’In worse cases, she’d end up sleeping on the floor.  Her real family had left her behind in this world of the dead. 

In other homes she would be treated like the stranger she felt she was and it wasn't long before rumors had started to spread about her. Voices were muttering about how she had no biological parents, people were questioning what had happened to them. 

“I heard that they were killed-” The children would drop their heads and look away when Mikasa glanced at them, a murderous look in her eyes. It was then that Mikasa no longer needed to speak to get her words across; she had no desire to. She left it all up to body language. A look here and a stiffening of the shoulders there and all the children would know not to mess with her or talk about her for the rest of the day. There had been one time where an ignorant child ignored her warning signs. He had jeered, “no wonder your parents are dead. I’d wanna die too if I had a kid as creepy as you for a daughter!” A few seconds later he was being rushed to the hospital with a broken arm. Unfortunately, though as expected,  this behavior didn't sit too well with the foster ‘parents’ and she would be off to the next home. 

Two years of this routine go by and she finds herself at yet another doorstep of yet another ghost. The door opened up to reveal a lanky man with dark brown hair slightly past his shoulders and round, wire-rimmed glasses standing before her. 

“Hi, I’m Grisha Jaeger and you must be Mikasa.” The name was familiar but Mikasa couldn’t remember where she had heard it before. “I was an acquaintance of your father’s from the lab.” 

Mikasa continued to stare at him with a blank expression in her eyes. It was very clear that he was the only one looking forward to this meeting. Even the agent??? Who had brought her to the house looked ready to move on to her next case. 

Desperate, he asked in an even more lively tone, “Would you want to come in? There’s someone here who’s been wanting to meet you for quite some time.” 

The girl was hit with a wave of disgust as her mind stumbled over past encounters of other children who had been ‘wanting’ to see her. She didn’t even give the effort of forcing on a smile as she braced herself for the uncomfortable stares audible whispers. Waving goodbye to her escort she walked into the house ready for the routine to pick back up again. They’d play nice but would never really want her and she knew that. She was young but she was far from stupid. Now the boy who stepped out to greet her on the other hand… 

He had the tenacity of a puppy and the innocence of a toddler. Though they were the same age physically, mentally Mikasa could have easily been five years older than the child who ran to greet her. His dark brown hair had given up on staying neatly brushed and his knees were covered in band-aids from when he had run faster than his clumsy legs could carry him. Before he told her his name, he wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could. In the few seconds that it lasted, Mikasa’s mind filled with various thoughts. Her initial reaction was to shove the kid away from her; physical contact being the last thing she wanted from anyone. No. She didn't want anyone's pity. But there was more to the embrace than obligatory charity. There was no hint of judgement present in the way that this child hugged her, how he looked at her, and how he had spoken these first words to her. 

“I'm so glad you're finally here! My dad had told me you'd be living with us since you lost your parents a couple years ago.” 

That caught her off guard even more than the hug he gave her. 

“...living?” 

That was different from ‘staying’ with them. With ‘living ’ came the implication of permanency. 

“Now, Eren, this isn't set in stone. You know, if you don't like it here you can always leave. But I thought your parents would like it best if you were in the care of someone they knew.” Grisha put his hand on Mikasa and kneeled down to see her eye to eye. 

“But if after a while, you decide you like it here, we'd be overjoyed to welcome you into our home.” 

Home was a foreign concept to her. She could hardly comprehend his words for the thick accent of kindness. She couldn't bring herself to believe that someone could ever want to keep her. The dead was starting to come to life all around her- or maybe they were never dead at all. As this revelation set in, Mikasa looked right through Grisha at Eren who was wide eyed and grinning at her, but it wasn't a smile of happiness; it was one of hope. Hope that she would one day make the decision to stay with them. Someone had hope for her. 

She didn't realize she had been crying until Grisha had to wipe the tears from her cheeks. 


End file.
